


we're gonna need a little help tonight

by mayyouwalk



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Character Death, M/M, it is zombies guys, mostly implied character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-27 18:44:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12588220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayyouwalk/pseuds/mayyouwalk
Summary: There's a zombie slumped against the counter. It's impossible to tell who it is—or was—because its head is a flattened mess inside a waffle iron. Carl is still standing over it, one hand on the handle of the iron, holding it down.He turns and looks at them, blood and bone fragments on his face and in his hair."That wasawesome.”





	we're gonna need a little help tonight

**Author's Note:**

> happy halloween!! it's still october on the west coast so i'm counting it. here's the zombie au i forced myself to finish after starting it back in uhhh january. title from zombies ate my neighbors by single file, which i highly recommend listening to before/during/after reading.
> 
> this pretty much says a big eff you to the canonical timeline, but i kind of pictured it happening around s3 in terms of everyone's ages.

**then**  

Debbie’s the first to know, and she only figures out something’s up when the Cubs game switches to breaking news about a virus outbreak.

She calls Carl in from the kitchen and they watch in silence for a bit, Liam gurgling happily on the floor.

"Zombies," Carl says succinctly, and he goes to get the bat.

-

"It's probably nothing," Fiona says that night. "You know the CDC, always finding something new to freak everyone out about. Give it a week and they'll be back to talking about that Zika thing."

- 

The next day the city goes into a government mandated lockdown. They're all let out early from work and school respectively. 

Ian gets back to the house to find the back door wide open, Debbie and Liam gone, and something that used to be the top half of Monica groaning and snapping at him from the kitchen floor.

He's seen movies, he knows what it means when you find your loved ones (hah) cut in half but still inexplicably moving, eyes gray-blue with film, jaws open and biting, still alive but really, really not. And he's used a gun before, obviously, JROTC was legit, and the day after his seventeenth birthday Mickey had pressed one into his hands. It had the serial number filed off and Mickey just shrugged when Ian gave him a questioning look, had said, "hey man, you never know when you might need one."

Somehow Ian doesn't think Mickey pictured, well, this.

The point is, he knows what he needs to do, knows how he needs to do it, and has the means to do it. None of that stops his first two shots from going wild, one in the floor and the other burying itself in the wooden table leg, before he manages to stop his hands shaking just long enough to squeeze off a clean shot right into her skull, and the noises she’s making finally stop.

Ian backs up until he hits the fridge, slides down until he's sitting, and drops the gun into his lap. He hugs his knees to his chest and looks at the hole in Monica's head and the blood seeping out across the floor and doesn't move until Fiona comes home and screams.

 -

No one can get a hold of Carl. 

Ian’s sitting at the kitchen table, listening to Lip theorize how this happened while Fiona brews coffee. Vee shows up just as Lip’s getting to the possibility of the government doing some kind of fucked up population control. She walks through the door holding a hammer and throwing a pistol down on the kitchen table in front of them.

“Fucking finally,” Fiona says. “Called you half an hour ago.”

"Kev's packing up now, making sure we got food and water and shit." Vee’s mouth is hard and the corners of her eyes are tight, but she’s steady. Solid. Ian feels a swell of affection for her and Kevin.  "He'll be over soon. You still got wine?"

"Box in the fridge," Fiona says absently. "Carl isn't over there, is he?"

Vee shakes her head and Fiona's shoulders fall for an instant before she turns to Ian. She gets as far as opening her mouth when there's a flurry of gunfire and what sounds like a car exploding outside, and Carl comes skidding in the back door, slamming it shut behind him.

"Milkovichs are fucking shit up outside," he says breathlessly, and Fiona rushes to hug him. Lip huffs a sigh of relief and reaches out to ruffle Carl's hair.

Ian's taking the moment to marvel at how his kid brother seems damn indestructible when Carl's words catch up to him, then he's standing up so fast his thigh bangs on the edge of the table.

"Mickey and Mandy?" he says and it comes out as one word, _MickeyandMandy_. Carl nods and Ian feels lightheaded. “Are they - have, have they been, are they still-"

The front door bangs open like someone just booted it in, and everyone swivels around to look towards the living room.

Mandy is shrieking like a banshee, kicking a zombie to its knees next to the coffee table before bringing a bat down on it, hard. 

"You-fucking-piece-of-shit-fucker!" she screeches, punctuating each word with a blow. From here, Ian can't see it anymore but he imagines its skull can't be more than pulp after the 6th or 7th hit.

Mickey's back is to them, standing in their doorway firing shots at something outside.

"Your fucking door was open!" he shouts over his shoulder. "Who the fuck leaves their door unlocked in the middle of a fucking apocalypse?" A zombie stumbles in just as he's kicking the door closed, slipping inside with a lurch, flailing limbs aimed at grabbing Mickey. "Fuck!"

Mandy turns, winds up, and when Mickey gets in a shove that forces the thing towards her, she swings. The bat connects right where its rib cage would be, with a crunch that makes Ian stomach roll. It staggers to the side and Mickey growls, moves forward, shoots two in its skull.

Mandy tosses her bat over one shoulder, flips her hair back, and Mickey sniffs. They turn toward the kitchen in unison. There's a beat where no one and nothing moves, silence except for the muffled sounds of moaning and shuffling outside.

Then Mickey spits a mouthful of blood onto the carpet, says, "Jesus Christ, do you Gallaghers have any fucking self preservation skills at all?"

- 

"Don't you guys have like an arsenal or something?" Vee asks when both Milkovichs have disarmed and joined them in the kitchen.

They still look half feral; Mandy won't stop twitching and Ian thinks Mickey's got a limp he's trying to hide. He also thinks both their faces softened when they saw him—Mandy had made a small noise and rushed to hug him, bat clattering to the floor. He met Mickey's eyes over her shoulder and swears he caught a flash of relief in them before Mickey looked away, popping open the fridge and pulling out a beer like he owned the place. Now they were standing with Ian between them, Mandy with her hand tucked neatly in his and Mickey leaning against the kitchen counter on his other side. 

Vee continues, "Woulda thought Terry’d be armed to the teeth." 

"He's dead," Mickey says tonelessly, and Ian’s head jerks toward him. Mickey's staring at Vee though. Mandy squeezes his hand impossibly tighter.

"And the guns?"

Mickey takes a swig from his bottle. "Where's the truck?" he says to Kev.

Vee scoffs and folds her arms. "Oh so it’s like that, huh?"

"Got a problem with that?" Mickey says, taking a step forward.

"Christ, guys give it a rest." Fiona rolls her eyes. Vee glares at Mickey for another second before putting her hands up in surrender. "Look, we gotta find Debs and Liam, and we need the truck for that. But we're not getting very far with only three actual weapons."

Mickey drains his beer and nods at Carl, who reaches under the kitchen table and pulls out a large green duffel bag that Ian would swear wasn't there an hour ago. He plops it on the kitchen counter and unzips it.

Lip whistles. "Your dad wasn't messing around," he says, pulling out an AR-15. "Where'd you get all this?"

Mickey just grins, bright and bloody, and Ian has never wanted to kiss someone so badly in his whole miserable life.

 -

"Yo, we taking the pit bulls too?" Kev asks, jerking a thumb over his shoulder to where Mickey is loading coolers up onto the truck and Mandy is keeping lookout with her bat smacking into her palm.

"Yeah," Ian says before anyone else can answer. "Yeah, we are."

Fiona glances at him but Ian sets his jaw and meets her eyes. After a moment, she turns back to Kev and nods.

"We're taking everyone."

 

**somewhere outside sarasota, florida**

**84 days after the outbreak**

"Jesus fuck," Mickey says, with feeling, after they've run a good couple miles and put some distance between themselves and the latest batch. They seemed to be clumping together now; Ian doesn’t know if that’s a thing zombies do or if Milkovichs and Gallaghers really did have such shitty luck, but his money is on the latter. 

Mickey's panting and he pauses to lean over, hands on his knees. His squints up at Ian. "How are you not winded right now?" 

Ian shrugs. "Not out of shape like some people." He pulls a leg back, half to actually stretch it and half to show off. He thinks maybe it was a dumb move because Mickey takes the opportunity to shove him and he has to drop his leg and stagger away just to avoid falling on his ass. He might yelp a little indignantly. Mickey snorts at him.

A rustle from the nearby bushes has them both turning towards the sound, that tell-tale drag and moan.

"Aw fuck," Mickey says, straightening, and they're off again.

 

**then**

"Are you bringing 'em?"

Ian looks up and catches Mickey's eye in the bathroom mirror. Mickey's got both his eyebrows raised, looking like Ian is taking too long to answer.

The little orange bottles in Ian's hands rattle when he tilts them to look at the label. They should last about 2, maybe 3 weeks. He still has 4 refills left but it's not like they can just pop into a pharmacy and pick them up anymore.

He wonders if the whole paranoia thing is going to get a whole lot worse, or if it’s going to turn out to be kind of useful now.

"Bringing what?" Ian asks, pocketing them and turning to face Mickey. Mickey just snorts.

"Yeah ok," he says, thumb scratching at his eyebrow, jerking his chin at Ian's hoodie. "That gonna be enough?"

Ian shrugs. "For now."

There's a pause, and Ian's not sure who moves first—all he sees is Mickey glance back down the hall to the stairs and over toward the empty bedrooms and it's like a green light for Ian. Their mouths collide and Ian's pulling and pushing at Mickey, trying to get his hands on skin, groaning when Mickey slams Ian's hips back into the sink, hands fisted in Ian's favorite hoodie.

Ian bites Mickey's lip and tastes blood.

"Truck's ready!" Fiona's voice floats up the stairs, and Mickey jerks back. It's a reflex, Ian knows, one Mickey still can't quite stop himself from having, but his hand is still wrapped around Ian's wrist and it makes his chest feel like it's expanding. They're both breathing hard, and Ian grips the sink to steady himself. "Grab your shit, leaving in 10!"

 -

Their first stop is Sheila's house. 

“Debbie might’ve thought it would be safe,” Fiona had reasoned when they were leaving. “Sheila’s got a basement, right?”

The front door is closed but unlocked, and Ian can hear Mickey mumbling under his breath as Lip pushes it open.

"Karen?" Lip calls softly. “Sheila?”

There's no answer and the rooms are dark, lit only by the fading sun. The furniture casts long shadows onto the floor and walls, giving the whole place a surreal look Ian's never seen before. Come to think of it, he hasn't been here more than a handful of times.

Vee, Fiona, Lip and Kev sweep through the house. Ian bites a hangnail on his thumb and stands in the entryway. His only thought is that Sheila will probably be pissed that no one took their shoes off before they came in, and he very carefully doesn't think about anything else.

“I hate this house," Mandy mutters, dropping onto the couch. The plastic covering squeaks and she grimaces. Mickey wanders into the kitchen.

"What the fuck is guava juice?" he calls.

- 

The house is empty, and Ian sees Fiona crumble a little further into herself. She's against staying the night, wants to keep searching, but Vee says quietly that they won't make much progress now that it's dark, and it's more dangerous now anyway, and Fiona folds when Vee wraps an arm around her shoulders. She's not crying, but Ian thinks she looks raw.

Because Sheila is Sheila, the fridge is stocked and there are leftovers of what look like meatloaf wrapped up that Kev pounces on quick. Ian is embarrassed by the way his stomach growls, since earlier today he was pretty sure he'd never eat anything again, but as soon as he smells the food he's ravenous.

Which is probably a poor choice of words, you know. Considering.

They split off after their makeshift dinner, dividing up the rooms between them.Ian and Mandy wind up on the couch, and they turn the tv on to see if they can get anything, but even the news channels are all static and color bars.

Mickey drops on the other side of Ian, pressing close since the couch is too small to accommodate the 3 of them. He's knocking back a beer from one of their coolers and now that Ian thinks about it he's not sure if Mickey ever stopped drinking since he showed up at their house this morning. 

"Isn't that like your 11th beer today?" Mandy says.

Mickey flips her off. "Hey, you wanna do the apocalypse sober, be my fucking guest."

Mandy rolls her eyes and leans over Ian to smack Mickey on the thigh. "I have weed, asshat."

And that's how Ian ends up getting a blowjob at 4am on Sheila's plastic covered couch, high as a kite when Mickey goes to his knees in front of him, trying not to wake up Mandy, trying not to groan as Mickey's lips wrap around him and suck wetly, in the middle of the damn zombie apocalypse.

 -

Ian wakes with a jolt to screaming, and he's up and off the couch with a crowbar in his hand before he's even fully awake, has just made it to the kitchen when he hears Kev say, "ho-ly shitballs."

There's a zombie slumped against the counter. It's impossible to tell who it is—or was—because its head is a flattened mess inside a waffle iron. Carl is still standing over it, one hand on the handle of the iron, holding it down.

He turns and looks at them, blood and bone fragments on his face and in his hair.

"That was _awesome_.”

Lip recovers first. "Nice one Carl." He reaches over and claps him on the shoulder, shifting to put his gun away.

"I guess we're not having waffles," Kev says, and Vee smacks him in the arm.

- 

It's still early, the sun barely up, but with everyone wide awake now they decide to head out anyway. They take what they can from the fridge and pantry, pack the truck to bursting, and then they’re off again.

“What about Frank?” Carl asks. “Should we check the bars?”

“Don't worry about him,” Fiona says. “If anyone could survive on their own, it’d be that cockroach.”

They do check the bars, though. And the schools, the arcade Debbie used to hang out at, the pizza places nearby.

“Is it weird that I’m nervous about checking the bar?” Key says, when they’d come up short everywhere else and were on their way to the Alibi.

“Place was already kinda half dead anyway, right?” Lip says with a smirk.

“Debs wouldn't go there.” Fiona frowns, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. Ian feels a little like they’re in the back of an armored car, or ambulance or something, sitting against the wall facing each other while the ice cream truck bounces and bumps down the road. It’s a tight squeeze, but there’s something comforting about the way Mickey’s leg presses all along his on one side, the familiar warmth and weight of Lip on his other.

“She might,” Lip reasons. “If she's looking for Frank, that's the first place she’d check.”

They don't find Frank or Debbie and Liam at the Alibi, but they do find Leo, gray skinned and stumbling behind the bar, and Vee shoots him in the shoulder. They all fan out with their weapons up and ready, but it looks like the rest of the place is deserted.

Vee and Fiona walk toward Leo, twitching on the floor with a beer glass in one clawed hand. Fiona shoots him again, in the head this time. Ian peers over the counter at him as Vee tilts her head.

“Does anyone else think he...looked like he was trying to pour himself a beer?” she asks.

“Wouldn't really surprise me,” Kev grunts, dragging Leo’s body towards the pool table so he can get at the safe under the bar. He leaves a smeared trail of blood in his wake, and Ian is alarmed by how normal it all seems.

They head up to the old apartment upstairs and decide to spend the night. It’s empty, and Kev and Lip get into a debate about whether or not zombies can climb stairs. Mickey wanders over to the window in the back and shoulders it open, lighting a cigarette. Ian joins him.

“Where to now?” Mickey asks. Their fingers brush as they pass the smoke back and forth. “Think your sister would’ve tried hiding out in a strip club?”

Ian snorts. “Probably not.” He looks down at the carpet before he adds. “Hey, why, uh, why’d you come to find us?”

“What?”

“You and Mandy. You have a car, could of hot-wired another one if you wanted, you didn't need Kev’s truck.”

He feels Mickey frown at him. “What, you want us gone?” His voice is hard, flat. The kind of tone he puts on when he’s trying to hide something.

“No.”

“Good.”

“Just wondering why.” Ian’s pretty sure he knows, already, but he can't help asking.

Silence. Ian looks up to see Mickey staring out the window, absently frowning. The cigarette in his hand starts to burn down to the filter, forgotten.

Finally Mickey glances at him, rolls his eyes. “C’mon, man, you really gonna make me say it?”

“I don't know, Mick,” Ian says, grinning. “It is the end of the world.”

 

**owentown, kentucky**

**17 days after**

It’s Fiona’s turn to drive but Ian can’t sleep, has given up trying to figure out if it’s his brain’s fault or fairly normal under the circumstances, and he decides to sit upfront with her.

“So,” Fiona starts, in that way of hers that makes Ian love her and want to run away from her at the same time. “You and Mickey? That's a thing?”

She smiling when she asks, and that's so rare now that Ian goes with the truth. “Yeah. That's a thing.”

“You probably don't remember, but when we were little Frank used to tell us that nothing good comes from getting involved with Milkovichs,” Fiona says, teasing.

Ian ducks his head, feels himself grinning. He glances back to where everyone else is conked out in the back. Mickey’s sitting, half slumped over, head bouncing against the wall of the truck. Ian wants to be pressed next to him, let him use his shoulder to lean his head on instead, but doesn't want to leave Fiona up here alone.

“Yeah well,” Ian says quietly, shrugging. “Never really listened to Frank about anything, so...”

“Why start now?” Fiona finishes, glancing at him. “Good point.” Her smile wobbles at the edges, and she takes a shaky breath. “Guess we were never the smart ones in the family, anyway, huh?”

Ian swallows hard. “No, we aren't.”

Without thinking about it, he glances at the walkie talkie sitting on the console between them. They’re probably out of range now, he thinks. Then he thinks it probably doesn't matter, and feels a little sick with himself.

Fiona reaches over and gives his hand a squeeze, and Ian squeezes back, feels older and wiser and still, paradoxically, like a little kid, holding onto his big sister and hoping she’ll chase the monsters away.

When Ian looks at her again, her eyes are shining, and she’s biting her lip, hard. He squeezes her hand again.

“I miss him too, Fi.”

 

 **then**  

It's stupid how Lip goes out, it's...so fucking stupid. 

They leave the apartment above the Alibi at dawn the next morning. Everyone is pretty sure zombies don’t sleep, and that vampires rules don’t apply, but everyone also agrees that the daytime seems to be safest. The streets are mostly empty, except for strangling zombies and the occasional car, that, like them, seems to be crawling around looking for something. Ian thinks it’s weird there isn’t more mayhem, but Lip points out that a lot of people either evacuated after the first few days the warnings began to break or have barricaded themselves in their houses. Carl chimes in that more people should be on the streets fighting and is in the middle of a question to Lip about what they’d need to make a pipe bomb when Kev swings the truck into a gas station.

They checked the convenience store but had forgotten to check the employee bathroom, and Lip is calling up to Ian to ask if they have Pringles when he cuts himself off with a half shout, and there’s a sound of shelves and cans and bodies hitting the floor.

Ian gets there first and he shoots the thing right between the eyes, dead center. It’s a big guy, trucker hat, stained shirt, and he’s lying almost on top of Lip. Ian breathes out in relief when Lip pushes it off him. But when Ian reaches down and pulls him up, Lip’s hand goes to his shoulder, comes away bloody. Ian’s entire world suddenly narrows itself down to the teeth marks embedded in the skin between Lip’s neck and shoulder.

“Fuck,” Lip says, and Ian tries to process anything else over the ringing in his ears.

 - 

"We can't just-leave you!" Fiona tugs at her hair. "We-we don't even know if you're going to..."

She trails off and Lip raises his eyebrows at her.

“Maybe I won't,” Lips says, scratching the back of his neck. Nervous tic, Ian knows, because everything about Lip is familiar and the thought of losing him isn't something Ian can contemplate. “Maybe I will, I don't think any of us knows what the rules are here. But either way, we can't wait around to find out. You gotta find Debbie and Liam.”

“We’re not fucking leaving you,” Ian snarls.

Lip shrugs. He’s being so, so calm, and Ian doesn't get it. He wants to burn the whole world down right now. “You can't not.”

They go back and forth for a while, Ian and Fiona alternating between yelling and pleading, Carl looking murderous, Kev and Vee strangely quiet, Mandy staring back and forth like a tennis match, Mickey chain-smoking and watching Ian. But Lip is Lip, and Lip has always done exactly what he wanted to do, even - especially - if someone tells him not to.

"Look,” Lip says, finally. “There’s no other way. You guys go, take the truck. If I don't turn in 24 hours, I’ll come find you.”

Fiona is still for a long moment. Then she nods jerkily, eyes bright and a hand clasped over her mouth like she can hold back the sobs with it. She hands him one of their set of walkie talkies, an extra pistol, then pulls Lip into a back-breaking hug, pressing her face into the side of his. Ian can see her whole body start to shudder.

When she finally lets go, Lip turns to Ian.

“Don't do this, Lip,” Ian says, one last time.  He knows it’s pointless, that Lip is too smart to listen to anyone else, too stubborn to change his mind. Ian tries anyway. “Come with us.”

Lip just shakes his head, tugging Ian into a hug.

“Hey, tell Debs I love her, yeah?” Lip says, and it barely comes out shaky at all. Carl hugs him, burying his head into Lip’s chest. “Liam, too.”

Kev claps him on the back. “Come find us and tell them yourself, man.”

 - 

They take turns with it, waiting and holding their breath as they drive, but the walkie talkie never crackles to life.

 

**tallulah falls, georgia**

**23 days after**  

“You’re ok you’re ok you’re ok.” Ian can't stop saying it, telling not asking, willing it. His hands sweep up and down Mickey’s arms and chest and neck and face. “You’re ok, you’re ok.” Asking, not telling. Praying.

They had come out of nowhere, six or seven of them, and Ian hadn't been able to see past his own limbs for a while, had stumbled in the same direction as Fiona and Kev and Vee, away from their makeshift camp. When they’d killed all the ones that had chased them, when Ian had swung for the goddamn fences and taken off the head of one that had had Fiona backed into a tree, he’d actually grinned.

Then he looked around and the grin slid off his face. He shouted for Mandy, heard her voice, shaky, but pissed off, call back, not too far away. Shouted for Mickey and was met with silence.

He ran. Back to their campsite, the truck parked in a clearing, stumbled, spun, frantic, finally heard scuffling off to his left. Sprinted. Mickey on the ground, one dead off to the side, one bearing down on Mickey, and Ian had deja vu for a horrible, heartstopping second. This one he shot in the back of the head, and Mickey had him off and was sitting up when Ian reached him.

Now Mickey’s saying something but Ian keeps shaking his head. He has to check all of him, make sure he—

Ian just has to _check_. He’s shaking as he looks and finally Mickey grabs his arms and tugs him in, one hand gripping the back of his neck, grounding him. He tucks his head into Mickey’s shoulder and shakes and shakes.

“I’m ok,” Mickey whispers thickly. “Ian, I’m ok, it didn't—we’re ok.”

Ian doesn't realize he’s crying until he feels Mickey neck get wet underneath him. He grips the back of Mickey’s shirt, fists it, hears Mandy behind him (“Jesus, Mickey, thank fuck”), hears Mickey mumble something back to her.

He doesn't let him go for a long time.

 

 **then**  

It’s a fluke more than anything else that they finally find Debbie.

With nothing else left to do, they decide to retrace their steps, going back over the same streets and trying to keep an eye out for her. One entire street is blocked by a car on its side and a pack of zombies on their hands and knees munching on whatever’s on the ground that Ian won't look too closely at. Regardless, they can't get through so Kevin brings the truck down a side alley and that’s when they see it.

“The library,” Fiona says, sitting up straighter and staring out the window. “Did we check there yet?”

Ian shakes his head. Vee calls, “Baby, pull over!” and everyone starts gearing up.

They get out and into the library with minimal fuss. Ian’s aim is getting better and better; Mickey shoots him a look after one particularly solid shot that makes Ian’s neck heat up. He looks like he wants to drag Ian around the side of the building and fuck him until neither of them is thinking about this shitshow anymore. Ian wouldn’t mind that—anything to make his brain stop buzzing, anything to make him stop thinking about taking off in the other direction, back to that convenience store.

“Debs?” Fiona whispers, as soon as they’re through the doors to the atrium and Mickey and Kev have dragged a table in front of it. She tries the door to the main building but it’s locked, and she yanks it a few times, making it rattle.

The small glass window of the door shatters and a bullet flies out, just missing the side of Fiona’s head.

“What the fuck!” Fiona yells, jumping back.

“That was a warning!” A voice calls from inside, and Ian feels all his breath leave him in one surprised huff. “Get the hell out of here or the next one goes into your face!"

There’s a pause, then Fiona laughs, bracing her hand on the door.

“Debbie?”

Silence. Then,

“Fiona?!”

 - 

"I figured, where would I not find anyone from around here, you know?" Debbie says, when she’s opened the doors to let them all in and re-barricaded them, when Fiona asks why the library of all places. "And there are vending machines, and it was quiet enough that I figured I'd hear if something got in, enough things to keep Liam occupied, and do you know how many survivalist books there are here? I have like seventeen booby-traps all around this place and—wait, isn't Lip with you?"

There are explanations, and tears, then, some outright sobbing, and Ian feels that familiar sour taste of panic edge up his throat again.

He is wordlessly relieved when he feels a palm spread over his back, rubbing tight circles between his shoulder blades. He leans back slightly, feels Mickey take some of his weight, and carefully tries to focus.

Something tugs on his ankle and Ian starts, but when he looks down it’s just Liam, arms reaching up, demanding to be picked up.

“Hey, buddy,” Ian says, bending to heft him onto his hip. Mickey’s hand stays on his lower back, and the combination of things, Mickey behind him and Liam’s warm, soft weight nuzzling his side bring him worlds of comfort. 

 

**fort myers, florida**

**137 days after**  

“Where the fuck did you find those?”

Mickey grins at Ian’s outrage, pockets the half-full pack of Newports. “Mandy’s stash.”

“So you stole them?”

“The bitch took my last Twinkie. She knew there’d be a retaliation.”

Ian shakes his head, scooting over on the pier to make room for Mickey to press in next to him. They watch the sunrise out over the water in silence for a bit, Ian yawning, shivery and tired in the morning light, but too awake to consider trying to sleep again. Carl will be up soon anyway, and Ian promised they could try out his new crossbow, cobbled together after their latest scavenging haul.

“Hey, you think we should have gone to D.C. instead?” he asks Mickey suddenly. He’s been thinking about this for a while now.

“Why?”

“I dunno, that’s where everyone always goes in the movies. You know, in case the government has a plan for the zombies or something.”

Mickey takes a contemplative drag of his cigarette. “Florida’s warmer. Maybe they’ll just melt.”

“Haven’t so far.”

“Ain’t summer yet.”

Ian knocks his shoulder into Mickey’s, and Mickey sniggers, holds out the cigarette for him. Ian takes it but ashes it out into the water, leaning in to take Mickey’s mouth instead. They make out as the sky brightens, only breaking apart when they hear Mandy loudly threatening to kill the assholes that took her cigarettes.

“Maybe it was the zombies,” Mickey calls back.

“Fuck you!” Mandy yells and Ian feels something like happiness settle low in his gut.

 

 **then**  

Debbie’s in favor of staying in the library, but Vee kindly points out there’s only so long all of them can live off Snickers bars and Lays chips, and she begrudgingly agrees.

“Florida?” Ian suggests, and everyone looks at everyone else for objections until Kev shrugs, says, “fuck it,” and they head for the doors.

“Ey,” Mickey says, and when Ian turns to look at him Mickey grabs his collar and reels him in, kissing him hard and determined, in front of everyone.

Kevin wolf-whistles when they separate, and Mandy makes fake vomiting noises. Mickey’s face is red and he’s scowling, but when Ian grins dopily at him, his mouth twitches like he wants to smile.

“That wasn’t like a kiss goodbye or anything, was it?” Ian asks, when they’re making their way outside. “You’re not planning on any weird heroics or anything, right?”

“Fuck no,” Mickey says, keeping an eye on a couple of zombies stumbling over by the traffic light at the corner.

“Then what was that?”

Mickey shrugs. “Like you said, it’s the end of the world. What do we got to lose?”

And Ian thinks, sure, it would take the fucking apocalypse. He's dating Mickey Milkovich but he might get his lungs torn out and eaten tomorrow, this is his life's equivalent of hell freezing over. He think he shouldn't be so calm about it, but the world has always dealt them a shit hand, anyway.

He doesn't say any of this to Mickey, but when it's Mickey's turn to drive he rides shotgun and puts a hand on Mickey's thigh.

Two miles in, he feels Mickey's hand drop over his own, blood on the knuckles. Ian curls their fingers together and smiles.

  
****

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!


End file.
